


Pregnant in the Quell

by tinasnewt



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:32:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinasnewt/pseuds/tinasnewt
Summary: How the arena would go down if Katniss was pregnant in the arena.





	Pregnant in the Quell

"We should leave, both of us know if Beetee's plan works it'll be a bloodbath. And I don't want... I don't want to be a part of that."

Peeta stares at me as he takes in what I just said. He glances back at the group for a moment, his hand playing with the sand and sighs. "If that's what you want."

"It's what I want," I mutter quietly, taking his hand into mine. We just sit there for a few moments, watching the water overlap the sand in a sort of human-made, tedious motion. Johanna and Finnick laugh, and I look to where they sit together on the sand that crosses into the jungle beyond.

Peeta begins to speak. "Look I don't know what kind of deals Haymitch made with you but we both know he promised me something too. Only one of us is going to make it out alive, and I can't... I can't bear the thought of it not being you and the baby."

"And I can't bear the thought of it being me and the baby. It's going to be you, and only you... and the baby," I object, and he just groans in frustration.

When he composes his answer, he takes both my hands into his and looks me with those ocean eyes of his. "Katniss," He whispers, pushing a stray hair behind my ear. I smile and look down since he does that daily. "I'm not a doctor, but I don't think an unborn baby that's been growing for eight months is going to survive inside its dead mother's body, especially not through a hovercraft ride to wherever the hell it takes the bodies. This baby needs you, Katniss... and... and nobody needs me. Not really."

It takes a moment for me to register what he says. Looking up, I whisper, "I do. I need you."

He begins to speak, to protest, and there's no way to shut him up so I bring my lips to his. He starts again, but my lips stay put.After a while, he gives up and gets lost in the kiss. I begin to feel that thing again, the hunger I first experienced in the cave, then again on the night our baby was conceived, and realize this is right. And that I want more. I thought I was some sort of expert on hunger, but this is a whole new kind. He brings his hand to my face, and I grasp it, never wanting him to let go. Never wanting to let go me.

**********************************************

Peeta and I walk together, leading the wire to the water. It was a silent agreement between the five of us, Peeta and Katniss go while the rest stay behind, watching the tree. All of the sudden, a cannon booms throughout the arena, and a picture flashes in the sky. "Katniss, it's Johanna," Peeta says suddenly.

"What?"I question, too late to see for myself since the image has disappeared. "That can't be so, it had to have been Enobaria, you just looked wrong." But even I wasn't confusing myself. And then I had this sinking feeling that something terribly wrong had happened, and something even worse was going to happen. The realization hits me a moment later. Why Finnick was so desperate to gain my trust, how he saved Peeta but seemed to not want to.

I begin to speak again. "Peeta put the wire down. The plan won't work," I whisper. "This was the plan all along. Finnick and the careers, they're working together." Almost to prove my theory, a man's yells reach my ears as another cannon goes off and Beetee's face is planted onto the screen.

It's almost like war cries, the sounds coming from somewhere not too far from us. "Go!" I yell, grabbing Peeta's hand and dragging him throughout the jungle. But we're slow, too slow. He's still tired from his near death experience, and me being eight months pregnant doesn't help one bit either. I can sense them catching up to us. "Get ready for a fight," I say, unsheathing an arrow and loading my bow.

Peeta grabs the knife he took from the cornucopia, and we round a corner, concealed by a tree. I catch sight of Enobaria first, and my arrow launches in her heart a second later. Her canon blows, and Brutus screams out in anger. Finnick just curses loudly.

"Where the hell are they? They are not getting out of this night alive!" Finnick says, his voice strangely calm. He steps only five feet from us, and I cup my hand over my mouth.

Brutus says something unintelligible, but it somehow makes Finnick very, very mad. He begins to scream at Brutus, and as I hastily reload my bow I hear another yell and a canon. The sound of his trident hitting flesh repeats in my ears as Brutus's image flashes across the screen. Peeta, crouched below me, tenses. Finnick passes by us, clearly satisfied that he has us all by himself.

"The first one to go will be that baby!" Finnick yells into the air, so close yet so far. I grip Peeta's hand to steady my own. "How does that sound, lover boy? Having that baby dead so close to its birth?"

Peeta begins to shake with rage. I shake my head frantically at him. 'Please, don't' I mouth to him, and he doesn't.

Until Finnick says the one thing he shouldn't have.

Peeta's hand leaves mine in an instant, and suddenly those two are fighting, fists only, on the ground, and I'm standing there, helpless, watching the love of my life beat the greatest threat of my, and my baby's, life. But all of the sudden, Peeta goes still after a particularly hard punch. I scream, clutching the tree for support. No cannon fires, but Finnick doesn't take notice as he heads towards me.

I'm airborne for a moment, but a spine crushing jolt alerts me that I'm on the ground. Finnick pounces on me, a dainty knife was drawn and a sick, twisted smile on his face. "What a shocking surprise it was that there would be twenty-five tributes this year," he hisses in my ear, the knife being fondled in his hands. I whimper as his other hand grabs mine, pinning me to the ground. "Unfortunately, the rules state only one can win. And I intend on winning. But if I die, I always wanted you to win. It wouldn't be fair, though since you'd be taking another tribute along with you. I'm going to take care of that."

"No, Finnick please you don't have to do this!" I scream, tears leaking out of my eyes. The knife slides across the slim fabric, not cutting it but instead, Finnick rips it away, exposing my bare stomach to the humid air. I begin trying to kick him off of me, but he's at least twice my size. "Peeta!" I scream, "Peeta!"

The knife just barely grazes my skin before a large mass of weight is taken off of me, and I roll over, coughing, my hand on my stomach. I hear loud groans, and watch as Peeta, who miraculously got up, begins to pound on Finnick's face. He has the advantage here, the element of surprise. Once I hear the sickening sound of metal in contact with skin, and the final canon, I relax. In the growing dawn, I wait for the trumpets announcing our win. Until the terrifying thought crosses me.

"Well," I whisper, my voice hoarse and shaky, "I guess we're back to square one."

Peeta sits, his back against a tree. A single tear traces down his face. I crawl into his arms, letting him hold me for the five minutes of peace the Gamemakers will allow us to have before unleashing a mutt onto us. Because they know, in their hearts, we will not kill each other. "I..." he says, hesitating a moment before beginning to speak again. "If I had a choice, I would have died like I will... but without killing anyone. I wanted to die without that, you know? The guilt of ending someone's life."

 

I'm too exhausted to object, to say he's not the one dying, so I just nuzzle my face deeper into his chest.

The mutts don't come.

Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. Suddenly, an hour has passed, and we've been sitting there in each other's arms for about an hour and a half. The only noise is an occasional cough from Peeta or rustles from the birds.

All of the sudden, Peeta whispers something in my ear. I don't understand it, though, but he begins coughing. A lot. And it's blood. "Peeta?" I ask, growing more panicked by the second. "Peeta!"

His coughing stops abruptly, and when the cannon fires, I lose it. And when the trumpets erupt, and I'm declared the victor, I lose it.

A soaring agony rises throughout my body, worse than when my father died. I choke on air, pulling his lifeless body into my lap and just rocking, slowly. The mocking jays stop singing, and I can tell the cameras are still rolling, and when I locate one, in a tree, I look straight into it.

"You did this," I snarl, my free hand reaching towards the knife Peeta killed Finnick with. Wiping off the blood, I point it at the screen. "Finnick was right. There can only be one victor. But there's two left. Prim, protect her, love her, be the mother I can't be," I cry, watching above as the crane above me looms closer and closer. And what Peeta whispered into my ear hits me. He said, "I'm Sorry." I repeat those words out loud, to the camera, to whoever is watching, as the knife plunges through my heart.


End file.
